


Mieza

by Berty



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Historical RPF
Genre: Greek Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Military Training, Outdoor Sex, School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 08:57:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5533877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Berty/pseuds/Berty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander knows what his birthright means, but it's a spring day and court life can wait for now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mieza

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pepe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pepe/gifts).



> Written for Pepe's birthday.

Alexander squinted as he stepped out into the bright spring sunshine. He lifted his face to the warmth, closed his eyes and breathed, stretching out shoulders that were cramped from too long crouched over maps.

"Did the old man finally let you go?" asked a warm, amused voice.

Alexander didn't need to open his eyes to know who addressed him with such familiarity, but he did so anyway, smiling as he took in the exaggeratedly nonchalant slouch and bored air of his friend.

"If he thought it would do any good, Master Aristotle would keep you behind too, 'Phaestion. Sadly you are a lost cause," Alexander said with a sorrowful shake of his head.

"Indeed. He told you so, did he?"

"He did. I tried to persuade him of your better qualities..."

"Of which there are many," Hephaestion interrupted.

Alexander pretended not to hear. " ...but he would not be swayed. Alas."

"I see. It is a good thing that it is you then who is destined to rule and not I," Hephaestion smirked, detaching himself from the wall he'd propped himself against and coming over to stand before Alexander.

"A very good thing." Alexander agreed quietly. "Who knows what might become of the kingdom otherwise."

Alexander began to walk, knowing that Hephaestion would fall in at his shoulder as he always did. Within two steps they walked abreast and Alexander glanced across to look at his dearest friend, noticing again how broad his shoulders were becoming and how the couple of fingers in height that had separated them only last year had grown to leave him a good hand shorter than Hephaestion now.

"Regardless of the hours you study, Alexander, I am still his favourite," Hephaestion shrugged, detouring to lean over a wall to admire the day.

Alexander stood beside him, leaning his back against the cool stone while his friend stared out across the valley spread below them. "You're right, of course," he admitted. "My dedicated learning and honest respect are no match for your charm."

Hephaestion chuckled. "My charm is all I have, Alexander, don't begrudge me the spoils."

Alexander turned to look at the familiar curve of his beloved friend's smile, his long dark hair that curled around his ears and brushed his shoulders and the strong jaw that he was still growing into. Even though Alexander had seen Hephaestion every day since they were whelps looking for trouble in the palace at Pellas, it sometimes took him by surprise to recognise that his best friend was no longer a child; that he himself was on the threshold of manhood and all that entailed. Soon they would return home to his father's palace, their days of study over and the responsibilities he'd been born to shoulder waiting for him, and he experienced an intense wave of sorrow, sudden and unexpected. If Alexander could have stopped the sun in the sky at that moment and made the day last for all time, he would have done it in a heartbeat. Their time here in Mieza had been filled with happiness. Out of the glare of his illustrious birthright, away from the scheming of the palace, Alexander had known true contentment; learning at his Master's shoulder by day and revelling in Hepheastion's friendship once their studies were completed.

"I'd never begrudge you anything, Pheas, you know that," Alexander murmured, catching and holding his friend's gaze and relishing the slight flush that graced his cheekbones in response. Hephaestion was the most handsome of his companions and had been since childhood. Where the others looked gangling and awkward in their adolescence, himself included, Hephaestion possessed a poise and grace that was rare and unmistakable. It was true, he was never going to be a great scholar, but he had a quick mind, good eye for detail, a calming demeanour and a way of dealing with Alexander that was the envy of his friends. Only Hephaestion had the ability to soothe him when one of his rages came upon him, to distract him when the weight of the world lay squarely upon Alexander's shoulders, and their friends made use of these skills when arguments threatened, pleading with Hephaestion to intercede on their behalf. Only his teasing would be borne by Alexander's pride, only his smiles would be returned without hesitation. Alexander knew that some would consider his bond with his friend a weakness, but of Hephaestion's loyalty, and his love, Alexander had no doubt.

"Come on," Hephaestion said, nudging Alexander with his shoulder and breaking the spell. "There's still time before we eat. Let's go and see if your sword arm is as well formed as your considerable brain. My guess is that the weight of your massive intellect will slow you down."

With a quick stop to collect their weapons, they walked out of the village and further up the road that lead into the foothills behind the town. It was a place they knew well and they often sparred there, alone or with their fellow students. Circled by trees, the place must once have been a temple to a forgotten god or goddess, and here and there among the long grasses, pieces of masonry lay scattered, white like bones left out in the sun.

They discarded their cloaks and began as they had been taught, with sequences of attacks and defences aimed at the empty air in front of them, each transition in stance slow and considered, until their muscles were warm and their movements smoothed and flowed.  
  
Alexander glanced across at his partner and grinned when he over extended, causing Hephaestion to scramble for balance. "You fight like you dance, Phaestion. You're more likely to cause hurt through your clumsiness than through the bite of your blade."

Hephaestion scowled, but his flow was interrupted and he skipped a move so he could catch his friend up.

Alexander laughed delightedly. "You are slow like a man three times your age. It would be funny if it wasn't so sad."

"Nonsense!" Hephaestion called, describing a series of quick arcs through the shining air. "I am the finest swordsman who ever lived."

Alexander scoffed. "Then you are Alexander surely?" he offered, speeding the pace of their practice, pushing Phaestion to do the same.

"I am!" Hephaestion declared with an unnecessary flourish. "And you must be the noble Hephaestion from your place at my side, my constant and best beloved."

Their pace was dizzying ,months of practice keeping their steps in time and their arms true. The sun glinted harshly on the bronze of their practice blades like bright sparks of flame, there and then gone. Alexander could feel his muscles sing and his blood thrum, not needing to look across to know that they moved in perfect unison as they swept low, stepped in and thrust one final time at neck height, the fluidity of their movements stilled as if frozen.

Panting slightly, Hephaestion looked over his shoulder. " Although I seem to have caught you on a bad day for I heard that Hephaestion was a better swordsman than your skills suggest."

Alexander stepped back and slapped the broad of his blade across Hephaestion's arse. "I am mistaken. You cannot be Alexander," he declared. "His wit is keener."

"You are not mistaken. I am Alexander, or I am as close to Alexander as any man can claim to be."

Hephaestion's clear guileless gaze spread a warmth through Alexander that had nothing to do with the heat of the spring sun or their exertions. "That is the first truthful thing you have said this day," he said softly and curled a palm around the back of the taller man's neck, pulling their foreheads together to knock gently.

Letting him go, Alexander stepped over to the edge of their arena and sank down onto the ground, dropping his sword beside him. Hephaestion joined him a moment later, slapping a skin of water against his head which Alexander took gratefully, unstopping it and pouring a good amount into his dry mouth.

Hepheastion lay back in the grass and began to crunch on a pouch of almonds he'd pulled from his tunic. Alexander enjoyed the ease he felt with his closest friend. Being who he was, Alexander was never certain if it was himself that secured the love of his friends or his title and the favours he could bestow upon those who pleased him best. Hephaestion had never given Alexander any reason to think that his love was anything but honest. No one could read him the way Hephaestion could, no one else would dare his terrible tempers, no one else would survive them. Hephaestion was his one constant, his touchstone and he knew in that instant that no one would ever come close to making him feel the way Hephaestion did, no matter how long he lived. It was a bittersweet realisation.

"Pheas? Who would you be if you were not who you are now?"

"Celerus," Hephaestion replied instantly. "His skill in the hunt has to be a gift from Artemis herself. I've seen the way you watch him when we practice." Hephaestion looked at Alexander from beneath his eyelashes, his lips pulled up wryly.

"And if you were not the son of a nobleman?" Alexander asked, avoiding the tease.

"Why, then I would be the keeper of the tavern closest to the palace and each night I would save the three finest jugs of red for my most illustrious client."

Alexander laughed aloud. "And when I fell over dead drunk?"

"Then it would be my honour to carry my prince home to bed." Hephaestion grinned unrepentantly and threw almonds into the air, catching them in his mouth.

"And if I were no prince, Phaes? Then what?"

Hephaestion paused and watched Alexander more closely. "We would own a vineyard and make the finest wines in the kingdom. We'd tend the grapes by day and drink the proceeds by night. We might be poor, but by the gods, we would be happy."

"We would," Alexander agreed, but pressed on with his point. "But if there were no Alexander, rich, poor or otherwise. Where would you be then?"

Hephaestion shrugged and crunched noisily on his almonds. "Well nowhere, Xander."

"How so?"

"For I cannot conceive of a place for me in a world without you."

It was the way he said the words that made something in Alexander's chest tear loose. No pause for thought, no hidden meanings, no attempt to gain favour with empty flattery. An answer from the heart if ever Alexander had heard one. It was hard to breathe.

"So without me you are nothing?"

Hephaestion looked back from his contemplation of the sky. "You must know that, Xander, or you are not the scholar Master Aristotle takes you for."

The silence that stretched between them was less comfortable than those they habitually shared. So much had been unsaid but neither of them had failed to mark the changing of the seasons that brought them closer to the day they must leave this life of ease and self-satisfaction and become who they were to be. Alexander had no doubt that Hephaestion  
would be at his side for as long they lived, but the place he would take would be very different from the role he had here in Mieza. And his words, said so lightly, with such ease let Alexander know that Hephaestion knew that too.

"Sometimes I wish that things had been different," Alexander admitted quietly.

"But they're not," Hephaestion murmured in response though his voice held no bitterness. "You are who you are. You will be a great king, Xander. You will lead fairly, choose wisely, inspire your people and marry well." He rolled onto his side, blocking the sun from Alexander's face. He leaned down and kissed Alexander's mouth, soft and sure. "And I am who I am. And I will be right beside you."

"Forever," Alexander murmured.

"Of course," Pheas replied, flopping down onto his back again and bringing up a forearm to cover his eyes.

Alexander rolled onto his side and laid a hand on Pheas' belly, feeling it rise and fall beneath his palm. He traced lazy circles with a finger, drawing a smile onto the lips of his friend. It was the work of a moment to slide his fingers down Pheas' flank to his thigh and brush them across the hairy, warm skin there. Pheas shifted his arm and peered at Alexander above him with one amused eye. Never one to ignore a dare, even an unspoken one, Alexander spread his fingers wider and slid them beneath the hem of Pheas' clout following the line of soft hairs on his beloved's thigh to where it became smooth again.

"We are hardly well hidden," Pheas said softly, his eyebrow quirked in question.

"Then tell me no," Alexander returned, stroking closer and closer to his aim with each pass of his fingertips.

Hephaestion drew his arm away now and looked steadily at his prince. "That will never happen, Xander, you know that."

"I know," Alexander agreed and watched Hephaestion's face as he took his manhood into his palm. Pheas' eyes fell shut and his mouth softly opened on a pleasured breath. Pheas was beautiful everywhere and Alexander had to see his perfection when the time came. He quickly loosened Pheas' clout and pushed it aside. He greedily eyed Hephaestion's hardness, but the fabric was marring his view. Impatiently, he fumbled with the ties, only leaving go when Pheas' clever fingers easily unpicked the knot and removed the clout, bearing himself for Xander.

He was slender, with a neat waist and defined hip bones that Xander loved to leave his marks on. His skin was paler here than the warm brown of his arms and shoulders and the trail of downy hairs that Xander had traced were dark against the smooth cream of him.

Pheas' head tipped back when Alexander grasped his length again and he thrust up into his prince's fist, his teeth pressed into the softness of his bottom lip. He was perfection in Xander's eyes, blessed by the gods. He gave so sweetly, so willingly whatever Alexander demanded of him. Already his eagerness beaded at the slick tip of him and when Alexander dragged his thumb through the wetness, Pheas groaned and twitched in his palm.

Xander longed to kiss Pheas' swollen lips and to lick the subtle sweetness of the almonds from his tongue, but then he would miss the perfect moans and the way Pheas' back arched just so when he released. The pace he set was fast, torn between keeping Pheas whimpering so beautifully and greedy to watch him spill onto his own belly. The play of muscle in Pheas' thighs fascinated Xander momentarily before the pulsing of his manhood described his imminent release. He slowed his hand now, savouring, and wrung every drop from Pheas' hardness, first in great spurts onto his tunic and stomach, then in feeble trickles that coated his knuckles. Pheas panted and growled through it, shuddering each time Xander coaxed more from him before slumping back onto the grass, his belly heaving with each breath.

Xander wanted to watch the way the sun caught on the spill that slid sluggishly down Pheas' side, but his own desire was too great and he lay down beside him, releasing his own manhood and slicking it with Pheas' spend. Pheas had anticipated him already and was positioning himself astride his prince, reaching behind to spread himself for Xander's girth.

The first brush at Pheas' hole was like the rush of a good wine. He longed to push up into that welcoming clutch, to bury himself within, but Pheas had no preparation and nothing to ease their joining but his own spill. With gritted teeth Xander held himself still as Pheas sank down upon him so slowly but with every indication of pleasure not pain. He scarcely breathed as Pheas took him inside and made a place for him. Tightness and heat rewarded each hard won fraction of his length until he was fully seated within his beloved, Pheas' sac and softened manhood cool and sweetly heavy on his lower belly.

Pheas leaned forward now, his eyes warm and unfocused. Xander lifted a hand and sank into the dark curls at the nape of Pheas' neck, pulling him in for a gentle kiss. Pheas began to rock, tiny movements of his hips that were maddening and delightful at once. Catching his rhythm, Alexander met him with a thrust of his own, and again, and each time it was harder until they bucked together with all the might they could muster, grunting and moaning, Pheas' hands pinching and grasping at Xander's tunic as he sought to match each push with one of equal force. Pheas' manhood began to rise, waving before him with each jolt of their bodies.

His release, when it came, was sweet torment; his desire to make the moment last conflicting with his need to complete. Hephaestion arched above him, perfect and beautiful with the sun on his shoulder, stroking his dark hair with gold.

Xander watched as Hephaestion opened his eyes, a smile instantly on his lips, slow and sated. He lifted himself unhurriedly off of Alexander, stretching like a waking cat before rolling himself into the grass at his side again. He made no move to cover himself and the sun gilded where their sweat and their spend slicked his skin. They stole slow kisses and lingering glances as the day's heat began to wane and the mundane sounds of the village below rose to their secluded spot.

"We should go," Pheas said finally, swatting a fly from his face and reaching to fasten his clothing.

Alexander reached out a hand and caught Pheas' wrist, stilling him again and pulling him a little closer. "Not yet, " he murmured, smiling to himself as Hephaestion subsided without question. "There's time yet. There's a little time yet."

Fin


End file.
